There was no need to wander around—I got straight into a car and drove to the familiar studio.
Even though it was already February, a round Christmas wreath still hung on the door. When I pressed the buzzer, the door flew open with a bang.
“Wah!! H-holy—!! It’s Seo Hoyun?! You, you, you! You’re already out of the hospital?!”
Lim Hyunsu, her messy blond hair tied up high, looked absolutely shocked. She craned her neck, glancing around inside the studio as if checking who might be there, then hurriedly grabbed my arm and dragged me in before anyone could see. She circled around me like a worried hawk.
“What the hell?! When did you get discharged?? What did the doctor say? Damn, look at this kid—your face is half gone!! Have you even been eating??”
“Is it a holiday today or something?”
“...Goddammit, even when I worry, you—”
I answered briefly to her endless barrage of pointless concern, and she clicked her tongue, stepping back with a grumble. After giving Kim Heeyoung a polite nod, I scanned the interior of the studio—aside from the scattered Christmas decorations, it looked exactly the same.
But the one I was looking for wasn’t there.
“Where’s Min Jiheon?”
I’d already heard from Hyunsu earlier that Joo Woosung might or might not come, but what about Jiheon?
“Ah, his brother called, so he went up to the rooftop.”
“Really? ...Does he still come to meetings regularly?”
As I nudged the stray CDs at my feet into a corner, Hyunsu cracked the window open, pulled out a cigarette, and muttered,
“Well, yeah. But these days, I don’t even see a trace of Woosung. Hey, does he still answer your calls? That bastard really used to dote on you, you know.”
I looked at her in silence.
Or rather, I looked at the white cigarette trembling between her fingers.
“No matter who joins the team, we gotta keep the original Seokkamo lineup alive, right? What, why are you staring like that?”
“......”
“What, you gonna tell me not to smoke?”
“No? Never said that. What kind of nonsense are you spouting?”
“Yeah, you’re totally telling me not to, you little—”
Anyway, Jiheon was outside, and Woosung wasn’t here.
I turned quickly and started walking.
“Anyway, I’ll go see Jiheon.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
As I opened the studio door leading to the rooftop, I nodded to Kim Heeyoung, who was sitting quietly on the nearby sofa. But her reaction was... odd.
“PD-nim, what’s wrong?”
“...Huh? No, nothing?”
“...Did I do something wrong?”
Normally, she’d greet me warmly. But now, she was desperately avoiding eye contact.
I frowned, wondering if I’d accidentally said or done something, but after some hesitation, Heeyoung mumbled,
“Ah... no, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that lately, when I look at you...”
“......”
“I get a little—no, extremely pissed off...”
“Ah. Right.”
Time to go. Before she throws water at me.
Looks like the system change really did mess with emotional settings too.
I pushed through the emergency door, opened the rooftop entrance, and was greeted by warm winter sunlight.
The massive plants Hyunsu had bought in bulk during her gardening craze were still thriving at the entrance, apparently immune to seasons, growing thick enough to block the view.
Pushing through the tangled stems, I spotted someone sitting on a bench. No cigarette in sight—just a phone in his hand.
When he sensed me, he looked up and smiled softly.
“Oh?”
Well, someone’s in a good mood.
I walked over casually and sat beside him. Jiheon slipped his phone into his pocket, his voice bright and light.
“Hello?”
“Yeah, hello.”
“You look better than last time.”
Actually, I’d already run into him in the hospital, and we’d talked at length—about how I’d entered the subconscious, what happened inside it, and the new game I’d started.
“Thanks to you.”
“Haha.”
Surprisingly, even though some bitterness lingered, Jiheon didn’t seem truly angry.
Despite all the trouble I’d caused him, he’d understood my side of things and just grumbled a bit before letting it go.
After I’d laid out the whole truth—and especially once he learned his younger brother was involved—he seemed more pitying than resentful.
It felt like he, too, saw a bit of himself in me, the same way I sometimes did with him.
Blocking the sunlight with his hand, Jiheon glanced over and asked,
“So, what are you gonna do now that you’re discharged?”
“Gotta get back to work.”
“Ah, right. Can’t die. Yeah.”
That too—but mostly, I wanted to see the fans.
We sat there quietly for a while, letting the winter breeze wash over us.
Flowers and plants swayed wildly in the rooftop garden that was far too overgrown to deserve the word “garden.”
Then Jiheon suddenly looked at me. His gaze lingered long enough that it felt familiar—déjà vu, almost.
“...Got something to say?”
“Ah, just that you’re fascinating, Seo Hoyun.”
He said it playfully, as if remembering our rocky first encounter.
“You really do fight like hell to survive.”
Back then, Jiheon had mocked me, asking if I was really an idol and betting I wouldn’t last long like this.
At the time, I’d thought it was just hazing—but in hindsight, he probably meant that he expected me to fail the “game.”
Guess I must’ve looked unstable to him.
So I asked,
“Hey.”
“Hm?”
“Do I still look like I won’t last long to you?”
“...Hmm.”
Amused by the question, Jiheon smiled and slowly scanned me from head to toe.
“Well, let’s see. There’s something written on your face. Lemme read it.”
“What?”
“On your forehead—‘Ssa,’ left cheek—‘Ga,’ right cheek—‘Ji’... oh! It’s true!”
I frowned in disbelief as he burst out laughing.
“Okay, okay. Honestly, it still won’t be easy, but you’ll manage. You always do. Remember the beginning? You looked like you’d drop dead any minute, and you still lasted four years.”
“So?”
“So I figured—you’re like a damn leech.”
“So.”
“You’ll live forever.”
“How about I take you on a tour of all those hundreds of restaurants you bragged about?”
“...Huh?”
His mouth opened and closed soundlessly before he shivered, rubbing his arms.
“...Forget it. Guess I’m about to die.”
Watching him squirm made me laugh as I stood up.
Well, the only actor I actually cared about was doing fine, and I’d passed on my regards to Seokkamo. Only one more person left to see.
Jiheon quietly followed behind me. I stopped at the rooftop door and turned around.
“Jiheon.”
“What?”
“Remember what you said after we finished filming that drama?”
He looked up, puzzled, trying to recall. I added simply,
“You were right.”
His eyes widened—and then he smiled, almost shyly pleased.
***
The entrance of the apartment building looked exactly the same as before. I passed the security guard, who greeted me politely but without nosy questions, and slipped through the gates to the familiar floor.
No matter how many times I pressed the doorbell, Joo Woosung didn’t answer. Calling his phone didn’t work either.
Annoyed but trying to stay calm, I crouched by the door, pulled out my phone, and typed a message.
[Me: Guess you’re not home.]
[Me: I’ll come back later.]
After hitting send, I tapped my right foot against the floor—tap, tap, tap—in steady rhythm. About five minutes later, the door clicked open.
A disheveled-looking man poked his head out, glancing around. When he noticed me below, he flinched.
Our eyes met. I grinned.
“Hey.”
He muttered a curse and tried to slam the door, but I shoved my left foot between it. Before he could react, I stood and pushed it open wide. Pulling a green tea latte from my carrier, I handed it over casually.
“My, my, what’s with that face, our superstar?”
“......”
“Mind if I come in?”
Joo Woosung pressed his lips together, clearly not in the mood for company.
I couldn’t help smirking.
You’re debating whether to punch me or not, huh.
I scratched behind the ears of the cat wagging its tail at me from the couch, and that must’ve been the last straw—Woosung finally snapped.
“...You dropped the formal speech?”
“Ah, yeah. I wasn’t in my right mind back then. Sorry about that.”
The quick apology only made him more suspicious, his eyes narrowing.
“What are you here for?”
Judging by his tone, he was still angry.
“Well, normally you’d be the type to call constantly and visit the hospital every day, but you didn’t. Not a peep.”
“......”
“And considering how our last meeting went...”
To be fair, a few weeks ago, I hadn’t been in my right mind.
Even if I’d learned how to fight back against that fucked-up situation, that didn’t make it any less fucked-up.
There were moments when no matter how hard I bit my tongue and tried to focus, I felt like I was about to snap completely.
That time in the car with Joo Woosung was one of them.
“...You purposely entered the wrong address in the GPS.”
“It wasn’t on purpose.”
My hands had been shaking too much back then.
Sure, it bought me some time, so I guess it worked out.
When I answered shamelessly, Woosung sighed in disbelief, then turned around and disappeared into his room. For a second I thought he was sulking—but he soon came back out, holding a cigarette pack in his hand.
“Here... take this.”
He handed it to me hesitantly. I raised a brow, recognizing it immediately.
When I flipped open the pack, something wrapped in white paper sat wedged between the remaining cigarettes.
Unwrapping it revealed a hidden USB drive.
Of course.
So Woosung had it after all.
The hard drive containing the “letter” didn’t matter—it had already been destroyed. But the USB containing the blackmail footage of Seo Hojin needed to be disposed of physically. Even deleting the files wouldn’t be safe; they could be recovered.
I’d planned to destroy it before being ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ pulled into the subconscious world, but Hojin had summoned me too early. I’d ended up jamming it into a cigarette pack at the last minute.
After everything was over, I’d searched everywhere for it but couldn’t find it.
I’d even subtly asked around—colleagues, staff, anyone—but nobody seemed to know what I was talking about.
So, I’d come to see the first person who’d found me: Joo Woosung.
“......”
Holding the USB in my palm, I looked at him. His expression was hard to read, tinged with something like guilt.
That video didn’t just expose my past life—it also mentioned Woosung’s supposed “weaknesses.”
I didn’t want him to misunderstand.
“Did you watch it?”
He couldn’t meet my eyes, turning his head away. As I waited, he finally spoke.
“The part where you said you’re not an idol, but a PD—”
Fuck.
“...That’s as far as I got before I stopped.”
He avoided my gaze for a moment, then cautiously looked back at me.
I asked, caught off guard,
“Why?”
“......”
“Why didn’t you watch the rest?”
After a pause, he answered quietly,
“...Because I figured you wouldn’t want me to.”
